Happy Birthday
by MayzyGreen
Summary: A random bit of fluff n' stuff. One Shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth

Happy Birthday

By Danika Lareyna

Karen had never much cared for her husband's daughter. This is not to say she disliked Sarah, she had simply never developed any particular affection for her. The girl was stubborn, flighty and loudly rebelled against the most reasonable duties assigned her. Her dark-eyed gaze was so much like her mother's. Karen had never met her husband's former wife in person, but it seemed she saw the well-known actress watching her wherever she turned. It felt to her as if she was constantly being weighed and measured against Linda, especially in the eyes of Linda's daughter.

And she obviously did not measure up.

Despite, or perhaps because of this, Karen vowed that, no matter what else anyone thought of her, they would not be able to say that she did not try to be a good stepmother to Sarah. So, when she noticed Sarah moping about more than usual one day, Karen turned her thoughts to how she might get the girl back to her old, dreamy self. A glance at the calendar had solved her problem. In almost exactly one month, a date was circled in purple, glittery pen and decorated with little stars.

Sarah had protested that she did not want a large party for her sixteenth birthday, but obviously she was just rebelling against anything her stepmother suggested, as usual. What girl did not want a grand affair to celebrate her Sweet Sixteen? And besides, Karen planned an event that she was certain was straight out of the whimsical young woman's dreams: a masquerade ball.

Karen had made sure that everyone would be there. Since Sarah did not seem to have any real friends, her stepmother had simply invited the entire high school. She had spared no expense, renting out a ballroom at one of the upscale tourist hotels in town. Everything was to be perfect; plans for decorations, music, food and much more being worked out weeks in advance.

She had even found a designer to create a one-of-a-kind gown for her stepdaughter to wear. The advertisement had immediately drawn her attention, which was odd as she could not recall ever having heard of the designer before. The gentleman on the phone had assured her, in a light, pleasant accent, that he would make for Sarah a dress fit for a princess. Satisfied, Karen had given him her stepdaughter's measurements and asked that it be delivered the day before the ball.

As her birthday drew near, Sarah withdrew from her family and life more and more. Her father could not understand what was bothering her, and she did not wish to talk about it. She had become more antisocial than usual; the only person she seemed to want anything to do with was her little brother, Toby, with whom she spent an unusual amount of time. She refused to have anything to do with the party to be thrown in her honor, and so Karen took all preparations upon herself. The girl would thank her later.

When Karen appeared in Sarah's room on the day before the event, a large box clutched in her arms, Sarah could barely suppress a resigned sigh. She had agreed to attend the ball simply because she saw how important it was to her stepmother and how much work the woman had put into it. Secretly, the very idea repulsed her. No masquerade could live up to the one she returned to each night in her dreams.

Karen had made a disgusted sound when they had opened the box, complaining loudly that she had ordered a dress in pink. But as Sarah stared with wide eyes at the familiar, white gown, accented with silver and gold, she suddenly had a feeling that her party may end up more interesting than her stepmother could ever dream.

xXx

It was crowded and dizzying, just as she remembered. The costumes were not as elaborate, the party-goers more subdued and awkward, but the atmosphere of mystery remained. The music was loud and modern, causing everything in the ballroom to seem somewhat discordant. The food was delicate and beautiful, finger foods and petit fours that seemed almost too lovely to be eaten, but they were nonetheless.

As the guest of honor, Sarah was the only person in the room without a mask. She wandered about, feeling lost and lonely as the people flowed around her. She thought perhaps a few boys had asked her to dance, but her eyes were elsewhere, in another world, and she did not even see them until they were gone. She recognized no one, but then she supposed that was the point of a masquerade.

The party was to end at midnight. Sarah's eyes found the clock on the wall, an elaborate thing done in rich brown wood and shining silver, ticking away the evening. Of course, he would be late. As the hour drew near, Sarah found a tiny smile hovering at the edge of her lips. This would be her second chance, the one she had dreamed of but never dared to hope for. He would come for her and, this time, she would be prepared.

Minutes passed, alternately stretching into eternities and disappearing in the blink of an eye. _Five minutes. _Her hunt became less idle, worry creasing her brow. She should have at least seen him by now, she felt. _Four minutes. _His eyes should be meeting hers from across the crowded room, only to disappear in the ebb and flow of the merrymakers. But the only eyes she saw were mundane and dull, not the bright, mismatched gaze of memory. _Three minutes._ The room was nearly empty now, guests wandering away under the stern gaze of Sarah's stepmother. _Two minutes._ Sarah's heart raced as she stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to see over the few remaining dancers. _One minute._ Her search was frantic, she felt as if the room were spinning- or perhaps it was her. The clock struck midnight.

He had not come.

xXx

She sat alone, her back to the wall. She was directly beneath the clock, lest she have to look at its mocking face once more. Her white gown, literally a thing of dreams, sat bunched and wrinkled about her legs. A sparkling garland detached itself from the ceiling and fluttered down to land in a pool by her foot. "Happy birthday," she whispered to herself, bitterly.

Eyes blurred with unshed tears caught the movement, but could not comprehend the form. Something black had forced its way into her little world of pain. She resented it, wanted to turn her eyes away, but found that she could not. Slowly, meaning came to her numb mind. A hand, gloved in dark leather, extended to her.

At Sarah's back, the clock struck thirteen.

xXx

Author's Note:

Erm... right. I started this little bit of nothing way back... well about the time I first started writing Labyrinth fiction. It has been sitting in my laptop, feeling terribly neglected and abused, for far too long. I find it almost painfully cliché, but I suppose that is not always a terrible thing. So I decided to finish it up, post it and let you be the judges.

Yes, this is a one-shot. No, begging will not prompt me to continue. Use your imagination, that's what it's there for.

Ever Yours,

Danika


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